


You Fill My Empty Spaces

by MaesMora



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftercare, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Begging, Blow Jobs, Bottom Harry Potter, Demisexuality, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Making Out, Past Child Abuse, Pining, Praise Kink, Smut, Snarry-A-Thon20, Top Severus Snape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:46:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23876392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaesMora/pseuds/MaesMora
Summary: Harry can’t seem to fill the void after Ginny leaves, and as it becomes harder and harder to return to his empty house, the loneliness inside of him grows. When he starts avoiding even his best friends as his coping methods worsen, a familiar dungeon bat steps in to resume his old role as Harry’s protector. Harry Potter has always been a thorn in Severus Snape’s side, and old habits do indeed die hard.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Comments: 45
Kudos: 590
Collections: Snarry_a_Thon20





	You Fill My Empty Spaces

**Author's Note:**

> This was my very first thon, so I’m super nervous about the outcome. I’m still so excited, and I very much hope that you all enjoy what I came up with for the generously open-ended prompt I selected. I’d like to thank the mods for being so kind and understanding when I was just a smidge late turning this in and just being awesome in general! You guys make this all possible, and I’m grateful to our hosts and all the wonderful fanwork creators who’ve come before me! Also, I have to thank my beta, hippocrates460, for her patience with the chaos of my shifting POVs before she set me straight. She’s one of my favorite people, and if you haven’t already, you should go read her stuff. Any lingering errors are my fault entirely.
> 
>  **Prompt:** 081: Harry and Snape meet in a dirty alley and things ensue.

Harry tossed back the shot, the liquid burning a path down his throat as he swallowed and slammed the glass onto the bar counter next to several of its empty fellows. He’d lost count somewhere around four or five; he wasn’t quite sure now. It didn’t matter. Not much mattered to him these days apart from his friends and his job, and he was hiding from the former and on leave from the latter. He hadn’t asked for the leave, but Robards had insisted. There’d been some shouting involved, an ultimatum in the form of “getting yourself together, Potter or else.”

Grimacing at the unwanted reminder, he slid off the stool and turned to look out across the room at tables dotted here and there with patrons, the low hum of muted conversations buzzing across his dulled senses. Harry hadn’t always done things like this, frequented bars like these. It was a more recent habit, picked up in the last few months or so as it had become harder and harder to return to an empty Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, devoid as it was of the familiar floral scent of Ginny’s shampoo or the mutterings of his crotchety old house-elf. _Ginny_. The pain was a hollow ache rather than the sharp knife it had been a year ago when she’d broken it off, told him _she couldn’t do this anymore, she was sorry, Harry.. Not your fault.. in love with someone else, it just happened_ — the litany cut off abruptly as he shook his head to rid himself of the memory, fingers threading through his unruly mess of curls, which could probably use a trim if he ever actually got around to it (he wouldn’t).

He’d been in shock for the first few months, then had buried himself in his work, taking on case after case until even Ron had started frowning at him and telling him maybe he ought to slow down, take some time off. When that hadn’t filled the gaping, Ginny-shaped hole in his life he’d tried dating instead. It had been okay at first; a few of the people he’d seen had been fun to talk to, and it turned out getting out of the house actually _did_ make him feel a bit better (not that he appreciated Hermione’s “I told you so” on the subject). The trouble was when they wanted more than just a friendly night out. Dean had set him up with a nice bloke that he’d met at one of his art shows, and they’d got along just fine, that was until his date had tried to kiss him and Harry had lurched back as if he’d been burned.

It had felt off, wrong even, and so Harry had thanked him for his company but said he didn’t think he was ready for dating after all (and that was that). For a while he’d thought that maybe there was something wrong with him or that he was broken somehow. He didn’t seem to think about sex nearly as often as most of his peers outside of a relationship. In fact, when he’d searched his memory he could really only honestly recall a handful of instances in his life he’d done much besides considering someone objectively attractive, Ginny being the only notable exception besides, well… _him_. Harry couldn’t bring himself to even think the name without a flush taking over the entirety of his face and even staining the tips of his ears pink. 

Hermione had pried it out of him one night after a few too many beers, initially thinking that his moodiness was somehow related to the abrupt cessation of his attempts at dating and had gotten rather more than she’d bargained for in response. She had immediately reassured him that of course there was nothing wrong with him and then had gone into research mode. Harry was both grateful that she hadn’t immediately told Ron (who had been stuck on a stake-out at the time and thus not privy to his spilling his guts) and mortified that she was making such a big deal out of the whole thing. She’d told him not to be silly and dropped by three days later to explain that she thought he might be demisexual and given him a stack of books on the subject. He’d even managed to read a few of them, though not the one that looked to rival Hermione’s beloved _Hogwarts: A History_ in length.

So that explained it, but it hadn’t helped him feel any less alone. The only person he’d ever had any sort of feelings for besides Ginny would certainly never—no, he wasn’t even going to explore that avenue of thought. He’d given it a few months just spending time with his friends and burying himself in trying out new hobbies to take his mind off things. He’d come away with a surprising fondness for gardening but still found himself dreading nightfall and being alone in the house. Harry hadn’t been good at being alone after the war, but then there’d always been his friends and then Ginny had moved in, and well… suffice it to say he wasn’t adjusting to the change even now. He’d given dating a shot a few more times, but even taking things slowly the second go around he just never seemed to click with anyone in the way he needed to feel fully comfortable. 

Inevitably it all caught up to him, and though he was no longer missing Ginny so much as he just missed having _someone_ there, Harry found himself staying out late after work. He hadn’t started out with the intent to get drunk every night, but he found it happening more and more often as time went on. With his mind blurred and thoughts softened by alcohol he found he could sleep, at least for a little while. Hangover potions worked marvelously well, of course, but his mood overall continued to deteriorate to the point that Robards had issued his ultimatum and Hermione had started up about Mind Healers, with Ron quietly backing her up.

Though he’d been righteously indignant about the forced time off work at first, there was no escape from the overwhelming guilt he felt every time he looked at his best friends’ worried faces. So he’d taken the pamphlets Hermione shoved at him and accepted the awkward pep talks Ron had tried to give, promised to look into the Mind Healer thing, and then promptly went about avoiding their Floo calls and owls for the past few weeks. With a heavy sigh Harry settled his tab and shoved away from the bar, his steps a slow and fumbling tread toward the door.

Unbeknownst to him, a pair of dark eyes tracked his movements from a booth toward the back of the bar, following him until Harry slipped through the exit and made to head left down the sidewalk towards home. If he’d tried to Apparate he’d have no doubt splinched himself, and even soused as he was he wasn’t about to court his friends’ wrath should they discover he’d done something so abysmally stupid. He was in enough trouble with them as it was, he wagered, avoiding them as he had been lately. Harry knew they loved him and were just trying to help, but the idea of opening up to a stranger, of sharing some of the things that had happened to him with anyone besides someone who’d been there, who _knew_... well, he just didn’t think that they could understand, not really.

He hadn’t got very far before the sound of a crash from the alley to his left made him start. Stumbling slightly, Harry caught himself awkwardly by bracing one hand against the stone of the building at the mouth of the alley. Brows knitting in concern, he peered into the alley to see if he could discern the cause of the noise. When no answer was immediately forthcoming, he took a few cautious steps forward and was about to call out to see if anyone was there when he felt someone take hold of his coat and haul him forcefully back a few paces. Once again caught off balance, he this time fell into the body behind him, and a lean arm wrapped around his middle, both steadying him and preventing him from moving any further. 

~~~

Before Potter could get his bearings, a familiar voice murmured in his ear, the tone just as sardonic as it had been back in his school days, “Mr. Potter, still just as foolhardy at twenty-three as you were at thirteen, I see. Well, allow me to give you some advice. It is never a good idea to go wandering about in dark alleys while intoxicated at nearly midnight.”

He felt the boy swallow a gasp and then relax into his hold almost mindlessly. He watched those green eyes slide shut of their own volition, felt the other’s head tilt back to lean against his shoulder. One corner of Potter’s mouth curved upward in a lopsided smile, and he noted the way that the boy’s voice wobbled a little when he replied, “Hullo, Professor. You always show up ‘n save me, though. So ‘s fine.”

Looking down at the boy, his gaze sharp and intent, he pondered the direction of Potter’s thoughts, what could possibly motivate him to smile like that at _him_ of all people. He tightened his grip on Potter’s waist, the long fingers that splayed against the curve of the boy’s hip digging in just a little. His eyes widened slightly when he felt Potter turn his head and nuzzle into the warmth of his throat. His voice thrummed against Potter’s back as he spoke.

“It is not fine, Potter. You’ve been making a habit of this. Where are those wretched friends of yours? I cannot imagine that Ms. Granger would be terribly pleased to hear about your nightly excursions as of late.”

Another smile quirked the boy’s lips in the dark; Potter sounded pleased, but for what reason, he could not fathom. Perhaps it was merely the effect of too much to drink. He rolled his eyes heavenward, though he well knew no assistance would be had from _that_ quarter.

“Been keeping tabs on me, sir? And it’s Granger-Weasley now, but I know you know that because she sent you an invitation to the wedding. You RSVPed no, but Hermione loved the gift you sent. Ron called you a name that would’ve cost us quite a few House points back in school, though.”

He huffed a small laugh before he could stop himself and felt Potter wriggle until he loosened his grip enough to allow the boy to turn to face him and place his head back on his shoulder. Feeling Potter’s arms looping loosely around his waist, he thought it might not be the alcohol after all. The boy had obviously cracked at last if he were willingly settling himself so comfortably in the arms of his one-time most hated professor.

“You are an insufferable nuisance, Potter, and I—” Severus, for it was indeed he, stilled in shock when he felt a mouth, _Potter’s_ mouth, skim lightly over the scars that marred his throat. Sucking in a sharp breath, he stood frozen, unable to quite process what was happening while Potter mumbled something about _that ruddy snake_ and _you’re so warm_ and _wished you’d have come sooner_ before trailing off into silence, lips still pressing slow but fervent kisses along Severus’ neck. He’d known the man was drunk, but this was rather more than he’d been prepared to deal with.

The hand that wasn’t digging into Potter’s hip reached up to thread through his unruly mop of dark curls and tighten, voice low and furious as he practically growled into the boy’s ear, “Just what do you think you’re playing at, you little fool? Have you forgotten in the span of two seconds precisely whom you’re mauling?”

A low whine escaped Potter’s lips at the sharp tug on his hair, and Severus released him, leaping away as though he’d been burned. Unbalanced for the third time that evening, the boy toppled to the pavement, landing heavily on his side and managing to scrape what must have felt like half the skin off his left wrist in the process. Severus heard him make a soft, pained sound and saw him draw the injured arm to his chest, curling around it protectively as the boy attempted to right himself. 

He stared at him, eyes wide and unmoving for the span of a few silent moments until he realized that Potter wasn’t paying him any mind. In fact, when Severus got a hold of himself and moved to help the little idiot up, the boy flinched away from his hands and curled up tighter, almost as if he were making himself as small as possible, less of a target. Seeing it punched the air from Severus’ lungs and brought to mind memories long buried, of his younger self hunched and shrinking, memories soaked in the scent of booze and sweat, that made his ears ring with phantom shouting. 

A sharp shake of his head brought him out of it, and he made to try again, this time moving much slower, hands splayed wide in a placating gesture as he knelt next to Potter on the ground. His voice was a soft murmur as he carefully reached forward to touch one tense shoulder, his other hand hovering at his side.

“No, never that. I would _never_ —” he cut himself off before he could complete that thought and changed tactics. “Let me see what you’ve done to your wrist.”

Gentle fingers reached toward him, coaxing the boy to uncoil himself, and then green eyes were peering up at him cautiously through sooty lashes and those familiar round frames. Severus nodded at him before shifting his attention to his wrist. With a _tsk_ and a flick of one hand, he palmed his wand and cast a wordless healing spell which earned him a whispered thanks. He tucked away his wand and then stood before once more offering Potter his hands. After another minute of silent consideration, Potter accepted, and Severus hauled him to his feet. Steadying him with an arm once more firmly about his waist, Severus informed him dryly, “I am going to Apparate us to your doorstep, and if you feel the urge to be ill, you had better do so while pointed _away_ from my person if you know what’s good for you.”

Potter nodded and squeezed his eyes shut tightly, unable to resist the urge to hide his face against Severus’ shoulder as the older man turned them both sharply on their heels, and they vanished with an audible crack.

~~~

Reappearing on the doorstep of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Harry clutched at Snape and tried very hard to will the contents of his stomach to stay where they were. Breathing hard through his nose, he stood still for several minutes, forehead pressed firmly into the curve of his former professor’s shoulder, hands tightly clenched in the folds of the other man’s cloak. Trust Snape to get away with wearing such a thing in a muggle pub. He must’ve been using a glamour or maybe a Notice-Me-Not spell now that Harry thought of it. When he was sure that he wasn’t going to lose the fish and chips he’d devoured hours and hours ago almost mindlessly before hitting the bar he loosened his grip on the other man and gingerly stepped back.

Fumbling his house key out of his pocket, he went to fit it into the lock while simultaneously dismantling the wards with no more than a thought and a mindless gesture of his free hand. Snape was watching him intently all the while, and his eyebrows shot up toward his hairline at the casual display of power. Harry blinked at him slowly before licking his lips and seeming to find some inner reserve of courage, which he drew on in order to force the words out of his mouth.

“Do you..er- what I mean to say is, would, uh..would you like to come in?” And then at Snape’s incredulous expression, he rushed on to say, “I’d like you to. Come in, that is. Please.”

Anxious eyes lifted to meet Snape’s dark ones as Harry caught his lower lip between his teeth and worried at it mindlessly. After what felt like an eternity but was likely only a moment at most, the other man nodded cautiously and stepped through the open doorway when Harry moved aside to allow him entry. They both moved further into the foyer, and Snape began examining his surroundings with mild curiosity, surprised to find them so blatantly different than the last time he’d been there. Harry shut the door and toed off his shoes, leaving them next to a couple other discarded pairs in a haphazard row along the wall. He also shucked his coat, tossing it onto the coat rack next to the door.

Gesturing toward Snape he offered to take his cloak, and with another one of those mysterious looks coupled with a raised eyebrow, the other man gave it over. Harry hung it with more care than he had his own coat before leading Snape up the stairs to the study on the first floor. The entire house had slowly undergone renovations in the years following the war. It had helped Harry to keep both his mind and his hands busy, and he’d found he rather enjoyed doing it on his own. 

Hermione had helped him research some of the spells he’d needed, and occasionally his friends would come help him remove awful, often mouldering old furniture or apply a coat of fresh paint to a room. Before long the place felt warm and lived in, at least it had before Ginny had left. Now it still looked nice, but Harry hated how looming and empty it felt. He’d had half a mind to call Kreacher back from Hogwarts full time, but he didn’t really have the heart to demand more of the ancient elf’s attention. As it was, Kreacher popped in on the weekends to tend to the few chores Harry allowed him and that only in a bid to keep the house-elf happy. It made him feel useful and, despite his worries about Kreacher’s advanced age, Harry wanted Kreacher to be content.

~~~

Severus noted the changes as he followed Potter into the drawing room he remembered had once been overrun with innumerable pests, such as doxies and the like. It was now clean and open, the dark wooden floors polished to a shine, and the furniture appeared tasteful, yet comfortable. He’d bet his last Knut that someone besides Potter had done the decorating. (They had. Lavender Brown, of all people, had gone into home decor. She was really quite good.) His gaze finally settled on Potter, who was fidgeting in front of the fireplace; Severus cleared his throat and waited. 

As expected, the boy jumped slightly and looked up at him, swallowed, and then spoke hastily, “Would you like a nightcap, sir?” 

A pointed look had Potter amending that offer to tea, which Severus accepted with a tad more grace, and he sat down in an armchair as the other man practically scuttled out of the room to fetch the aforementioned refreshment. Thin lips pursed thoughtfully as he clasped his hands together in front of him, index fingers steepling and tapping at them absently in a way that bespoke habit. It was true that he’d been keeping tabs on Potter. Another old habit. One that he’d tried and failed to break after the war, after the boy had gone into Auror training, settled into his life with the Weasley chit, and that should’ve been the end of it.

But things were never that simple when it came to The Boy Who Lived, were they? No, Severus had read about the ‘scandal’ in that ridiculous rag, the _Daily Prophet_ , how Ginevra Weasley had left him, had broken his heart, and taken up with that cousin of Draco’s. What was her name... Lovegood? No matter. It had caused him to watch the boy... well, man, more closely afterward, and his concern had only grown with each new development. The leave from work had even prompted a _letter_ of all things from Hermione Granger-Weasley (yes he _had_ known, thanks ever so), outlining her own worries that the boy was only getting worse as time went on, not better, and who better to shake him out of it than the man who was always pulling Potter’s bacon out of the frying pan?

Damn her. She _knew things_ , Severus was certain of it. He wished now that he’d never kept up with the correspondence after he’d received that first letter from her years ago. It had been one of several of its kind he’d received as he’d recovered from Nagini’s bite and the resulting magical depletion the stress of the whole ordeal had wrought on his body and his core. Granger-Weasley, Minerva and several of his former colleagues from Hogwarts, Potter. They’d apologized for misjudging him, and then even worse they’d _thanked him_ for everything he’d done for the side of the Light. Fools, the lot of them. He hadn’t wanted their gratitude, nor their pity. Only... they’d kept writing, and then he kept responding. 

There was definitely something wrong with him. That wretched bird must’ve botched things with its damned tears, that was all. Severus Snape was not falling victim to sentiment now, not after everything that had happened. He had been the terror of the Hogwarts dungeons for decades. There were standards to uphold. His gaze cut to the doorway as Potter returned, levitating a tea tray in front of him. Severus watched as the other man settled it on the sideboard and set about fixing their cups. He opened his mouth to deliver a cutting remark about presumptuous upstarts but was brought up short when the younger man turned and handed him a cup of tea with a splash of milk, nothing more. 

Potter knew how he took his tea. Why did he know that? When would he have even had the occasion to find out? After a moment Severus realized that he’d have had plenty of occasions, of course. Order of the Phoenix meetings, all Harry’s time at school, his own memories, even, the ones he’d given of his own volition when... Yes, well. But it told him something he hadn’t been expecting. Potter had been paying attention to him. The sort of attention that made one remember frivolous details about a person, such as their preference for only a little milk, no sugar. But there was still the _why_ to consider. It threw Severus off balance, the not knowing, and he hated being caught unawares.

When the other man sat across from him with his own cup in hand, Severus’ mind helpfully pointed out that he’d recalled Potter’s preference for a ridiculous amount of milk and two sugars in _his_ tea, and he silently told it to shut up, that he’d been a spy for twenty years, so of course he noticed details like that. It meant nothing; whereas Potter was usually an unobservant nitwit, so obviously his knowing _Severus’_ preferences was significant. He was pulled from his thoughts when the younger man cleared his throat and looked at him nervously over the rim of his teacup. Though still a bit twitchy, his eyes seemed clearer. Interesting.

“I wanted to apologize. Er..about what happened in the alley, I mean. I was drunk, but that’s no excuse for forcing my attentions on you like—” his face went scarlet, and he looked away hastily as he rushed on, “—anyway, I’m sorry, sir, and thank you for making sure I got home alright. I’m sorry for being a bother.”

Severus watched him all during this little speech, face impassive as he sipped his tea while the silence stretched between them. In the wait for some sort of reply, Potter’s anxiety rose to the fore yet again, and he noted that the boy couldn’t help but fidget, hands spinning his cup on its saucer, one knee bouncing in an excess of energy. After taking a last leisurely swallow from his own cup, he lowered it back down and set it on the end table beside his chair before finally speaking, but it was definitely not anything the other man had been expecting to hear.

“You took something. A Sober-Up potion?”

~~~

Dark eyes watched his face carefully as Harry blinked and looked up at the other man in surprise.

“Yeah, I figured I’d made enough of an arse of myself for one evening.”

He might’ve just imagined it, but he swore he saw the corners of the Potions Master’s lips twitch in what could have been amusement.

“You manage that rather well sober, as I recall.”

Harry flushed again, but he managed to meet the other man’s gaze this time, his smile rueful.

“Some things never change, sir. How’ve things been for you? Well, I hope?”

He wished that Snape was easier to read. There might’ve been something like surprise momentarily in his gaze, but Harry couldn’t be sure. He’d set his cup down at that point and regretted it because it had given him something to do with his hands. As it was, he plucked at a loose thread on his jumper as he watched his former professor with something close to fascination. It had been years since he’d been in close proximity to the man for more than a few moments at a time. They both regularly attended the yearly memorial gala for those lost in the Second Wizarding War, and occasionally Harry would see Snape briefly turn up at a charity auction or ball hosted by Draco Malfoy in his continuous campaign to improve the Malfoy image post-war, usually looking dour and put upon for being dragged into attendance in the first place.

The thought made Harry smile, which had Snape arching one dark eyebrow at him suspiciously. He couldn’t help but play into it a bit and met the other man’s gaze evenly, his smile widening into a full blown grin as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely between them. At that Snape blinked and sat back slightly, before picking up his cup and taking a few measured sips before lowering it back to the saucer and responding to Harry’s query.

“Indeed. I no longer have to mind hundreds of little dunderheads everyday while they make pathetic attempts at brewing a halfway decent potion without melting their cauldrons or blowing up my classroom. I am finally free to conduct my own research in peace. Or at least I _was_ until a particularly spectacular imbecile started behaving in a manner that inspired Mrs. Granger-Weasley to write to me, imploring me to intercede. Why she deemed _me_ more suitable to the task than herself or a dozen-odd Weasleys I cannot say.”

Harry flushed and dropped his gaze, the grin slipping from his face as mortification replaced his former easy humor. He knew why she’d written Snape. Hermione was his best friend, a title she’d held in equal measure with Ron since they were eleven years old, and she knew him better than anyone. She never missed anything either, drat her, and she wouldn’t have forgotten about Harry’s fixation with the Half-Blood Prince in sixth year or how Harry had been so mixed up about how he felt about Snape right after the war. Surely she had connected the two things in her mind by now. It’d be just like her to sic the Potions Master on him and expect it to sort itself out.

“That might be because I’ve been... er, well, avoiding them. A bit. She’s probably more than a little cross with me by now, actually.”

He had the good grace to look sheepish at this confession and also rather uncomfortable with the fact that he was continuing to look like more and more of an irredeemable twit as the night wore on. This feeling did not improve as Snape’s rumbling baritone washed over him, the censure in his tone unmistakable.

“So I am to understand that you have been running yourself into the ground with work, drinking to excess with ever increasing frequency, behaving erratically to the point that you were put on leave from said job, and now are choosing to avoid the people who are your most stalwart companions and quite obviously care deeply for your well being? Did I miss anything, Potter, or is there more to your staggeringly idiotic spiral of self-destruction that I should add to the list?”

Shame had Harry curling in on himself thoughtlessly, arms wrapping around his own torso, shoulders hunching, and head ducking to hide eyes that closed against the fierce and sudden urge to cry. He hadn’t done _that_ in front of anyone but his two closest friends and Ginny, and them only a handful of times at most. He wasn’t sure he’d survive the humiliation if he succumbed in front of Snape, and he didn’t trust himself to answer with anything that wouldn’t be equally embarrassing. So instead he said nothing and prayed that the worst that would happen was the other man getting up and leaving out of sheer impatience with his former pupil’s failure to fall in line at once. Not that Harry had ever done so before, so why start now?

~~~

Severus watched the changes sweep across the other man’s face as he spoke, saw the bowing of his head and the way he withdrew into himself, arms hugging his own body tightly, and he promptly ended his tirade, lips pressing tightly together as his eyebrows drew down in consternation. He hadn’t quite known what to expect when he’d begun sniping at his former student, but it certainly wasn’t this. When the silence continued unbroken by the younger man, Severus stood abruptly and closed the distance between them in a few easy strides. 

He looked down at him for a moment longer in quiet contemplation before cupping his chin in one long-fingered hand and tipping the other man’s head back with gentle, yet firm pressure. Vivid green eyes snapped open at his touch and peered up at him, the expression in them pure shock. His voice was softer when he spoke next, exasperation tempered by concern.

“Harry, this can’t continue. I won’t have it. Do you understand?”

His thumb stroked along the strong line of Harry’s jaw as he spoke (if he was honest with himself, the boy had been Harry in his thoughts and not Potter at all for quite some time), and he felt the younger man shiver at the caress. Severus was intrigued by that shiver, but it was overtaken by what he noted in Harry’s eyes. They were overbright, his eyelashes wet... were those _tears?_ Severus’ frown deepened, and he would’ve demanded an answer had Harry not chosen that moment to uncross his arms and push himself up with one, the other moving to cup the back of Severus’ head, fingers threading through his hair as he pressed his lips to Severus’ own.

Shock held him immobile for only a few seconds at best, and then he was kissing him back, both their eyes sliding closed as Severus took over control. Using the hand gripping Harry’s chin for leverage, he angled the other’s head the way he wanted it and took advantage of Harry’s lips parting on a gasp to slide his tongue inside his mouth, exploring it at his leisure. When they both came up for air, Severus looked down into his face to see Harry’s pupils blown wide with arousal, lips swollen and spit slick from what they’d been doing, and his stomach clenched hotly as he wondered what they would look like stretched wide around his cock.

He shuddered with the sheer force of want that pulsed through him at that thought and recaptured Harry’s mouth, this time with more force, his free hand tangling in those maddeningly wayward curls and tightening possessively as he yanked him closer.

Severus savored Harry’s broken moan as the younger man arched into the kiss, his head obviously spinning with the suddenness of it all. His own head was full of nothing but Harry, of the taste of him on his tongue. It couldn’t possibly be this simple. That the boy who had frustrated him and fascinated him by turns for years was finally here in his arms, allowing Severus to claim his mouth with a thoroughness previously unimagined was unfathomable. 

When he finally released Harry long enough for them both to gulp a few desperate breaths, Severus had to close his eyes and rein in the remainder of his rapidly unraveling self control before he growled and dragged Harry’s head back by the hair, exposing the smooth expanse of his throat to the ministrations of his lips and tongue. Harry’s breath exploded out of him when Severus nipped his earlobe and then pulled it into his mouth and started to suck hungrily. The boy’s voice was thready with need when he finally managed speech, though it was little more than broken babbling, a desperate stream of half-formed pleas for more.

“S-Severus, please... ne-need you… wanted you for y-years. Oh, _god_ , please, I can’t—” Severus never found out what it was he’d meant to say because he chose that moment to let his wandering hand slide from Harry’s stomach down to cup his denim-covered crotch and was gratified to find him quite hard and straining at his flies. Harry gave a strangled yelp, which then devolved into deep-throated moaning as he rocked helplessly against Severus’ hand. He watched the younger man’s face with open hunger as he massaged his length through the layers of cloth separating them. This in itself was incredible, just getting to touch Harry, to see the desire causing him to arch at Severus’ touch, but Severus wanted, no _needed_ more. He wanted everything Harry was willing to give him.

“Harry, look at me, please.”

He stopped stroking the younger man and gave a gentle tug to his hair, insistent. With a groan of protest, Harry obeyed, cracking his eyes open to peer up at Severus through his lashes. When he was certain that the other was clear headed enough to answer him properly, Severus continued.

“Are you certain you wish to proceed? That you wish me to—”

It was Harry’s turn to cut him off, apparently, because Severus found himself being yanked forward by the back of his neck, where one of Harry’s hands still gripped him, and pulled into another fierce kiss, this one open-mouthed, hot, and everything he could’ve wanted. Once Harry allowed them to part again, he answered before Severus could resume speaking, his voice husky with both desire and a slight bite of impatience.

“I told you. Wanted you for years. Yes, _you_ , and yes, I’m sure. Didn’t ever think you’d want me back, though. Will you touch me now? Please?”

Needing no further reassurance, Severus nodded sharply as he moved to jerk Harry’s jumper over his head, peeling both it and the t-shirt beneath it off of him in one go. The other man helpfully raised his arms and wriggled out of them before his hands went to his flies, popping the button and taking down the zip, swallowing a gasp as Severus’ hands took to exploring the bare skin of his upper half, pausing to tweak his nipples and tug on them sharply when it made Harry shudder against him and fumble with his flies.

Severus dipped his head and took one of the hardened nubs into his mouth, tongue flicking as his hands stole downward. He batted the other man’s hands away before reaching into Harry’s boxer briefs and tugging his cock free of its confines. Harry whimpered at the contact of skin on skin and shoved at his jeans and underwear both, lifting his hips a bit and pushing them down until they were resting at mid-thigh. Severus chuckled darkly as the boy gave a frustrated grunt when he could get them no farther without dislodging Severus, but that quickly turned into a moan instead as the older man palmed his shaft, thumb circling the tip, smearing the wetness there all along the head in the process. Dark eyes flicked up to meet Harry’s, and he released his nipple with a soft pop in order to ask him if he had any lubrication.

He said it all out like that whole, _lubrication_ , and Harry laughed and told him to hold his hand out. When Severus complied, the younger man concentrated a moment, brows knitting together in a way that Severus found rather endearing, though he’d be flayed alive before he would’ve admitted it out loud, and then lube was pooling in his cupped hand, conjured, undoubtedly by Harry’s will alone. That it had been both wordless and wandless made something tighten in Severus’ guts and flare hotly, and without further thought, he leaned in and reclaimed Harry’s mouth in a fierce kiss, teeth nipping, and tongue plunging in insistently when Harry panted against his lips and made helpless little keening noises as Severus’ hand circled his length, tightened, and began sliding up and down in a quick, ruthless pace.

Harry’s hips were working, pumping himself through the tight circle of Severus’ fist in time to the other man’s motions, and he knew he wasn’t going to last. It had been too long since anyone had touched him like this, and he was far too worked up to hold back for more than a few minutes of Severus’ fevered attentions and the ever deepening, insistent kisses that were liquefying his brain and making it impossible to focus on anything other than the fact that Severus was systematically taking him apart.

Soon Harry was desperately trying to draw back from the kiss, to get enough breath to warn Severus that he was about to come, but the other man growled into his mouth and tightened his grip on his hair, other hand flying over his cock, wrist twisting at the top of his stroke that had Harry giving a muffled cry and spilling himself over Severus’ fingers in several long, hot pulses.

Severus milked him through it, the kiss becoming more languid as he felt Harry slowly go limp and heavy beneath him, the languor of post-orgasm overtaking him. He broke the kiss finally and drew his head back far enough to look down at him with a little satisfied smirk curving his lips. Harry just smiled up at him, and it was soft and full of wonder, as though he couldn’t believe his luck. Severus had known the boy was an idiot, but that look proved it. If anyone was fortunate in this situation it was Severus for even being allowed to touch him in the first place. He leaned down and brushed Harry’s mouth gently with his own once more merely because he could.

Harry tugged him down to sit on the couch beside him before shucking out of his denims and pants and kicking them aside carelessly. Severus summarily found himself with a lapful of naked Gryffindor and then Harry was kissing him and sliding his hands down the taller man’s chest, pausing between kisses to ask for permission for what he wanted to do next.

“I want to suck you. Can I? Been thinking about it ever since you were pressed up against me back in the alley, and I... I wanna make you feel good, too. So can I? Please?”

Severus had to close his eyes against the intensity of the bolt of unbridled lust that shot straight to his bollocks and set them to throbbing at Harry’s request. Had he not pictured the younger man doing just that after their first kiss only moments ago? As if there was any likelihood of Severus saying no. Ha. He yanked Harry into another heated kiss before pulling back and looking into those bright green eyes before nodding once, decisively, and letting him go. Eyes shining, his smile nearly blinding now, Harry scrambled off of his lap and onto the floor instead, going to his knees and undoing Severus’ trousers and hurriedly freeing his cock from the confines of his pants.

The younger man wasted no time in grasping him firmly at the base and licking a wet stripe up the underside of Severus’ shaft before closing his mouth around the head and giving an experimental suck. Severus’ eyes rolled shut as he was enveloped by the warm, wet heat of Harry’s mouth, his head falling with a thunk onto the back of the couch. He curled his hands into fists to keep from grabbing Harry’s head and pushing in further, but he couldn’t stop the desperate, choked noise that escaped past his lips as the other man took him deeper, only gagging a little before pulling back and then trying again.

Harry was obviously new to this, but what he lacked in finesse he more than made up for in enthusiasm, eventually working out a rhythm that had Severus threading a hand through his hair and guiding him as he thrust slowly and carefully in and out of Harry’s relaxed and willing throat. One of Harry’s hands pumped him in time to Severus’ bucking hips, the bit of him he couldn’t quite fit without choking. They’d work on that, though. Severus was sure. He had opened his eyes at one point, unwilling to miss the sight of Harry so eager, head bobbing between Severus’ legs. The view alone was almost enough to make him come on the spot, but he held himself in check and kept up a steady stream of encouragement instead, his voice a deep, rumbling purr.

“Yes, Harry, just like that. You’re doing so well for me. Such a good boy,” at noting how Harry flushed under the praise, Severus smiled and doubled down. “You asked me so sweetly for it, too. The privilege of sucking my cock. You’re quite beautiful on your knees. I’ll be sure to put you there more often now that I know.”

A low whine escaped Harry as his sucking became more frantic, his cheeks hollowed as he moved his head faster along the length of Severus’ shaft. Long fingers tightened in his hair, and the older man hissed as pleasure began to coil in his midsection, causing his bollocks to tighten and draw up closer as his climax drew nearer. Somewhere in all this Harry had slipped his free hand between his own legs, fisting his renewed erection and jerking it in hard, fast pulls. His eyes were tightly shut, but Severus continued to watch him with naked hunger, just as eager to watch Harry as he was to experience the feeling zinging through him. And he hadn’t stopped talking either.

“Look at you, practically gagging for it, and you’re touching yourself, too. You like pleasing me, don’t you, Harry?” 

Ragged moans vibrated up his shaft at that, and Harry’s eyes snapped open to lock with Severus’ as he felt the younger man start to shake in the grips of his second orgasm of the evening.

“Fucking _Salazar!_ That’s it, Harry, yes... I’m going to come now, and you’re going to swallow it all, every last bit of it. And then you’ll thank me when I’m done, won’t you?”

Frantic nodding from the man on his knees, and then Severus was crying out wordlessly and shooting down Harry’s throat. He convulsed, hands gripping Harry’s head as he gave several short, harsh strokes while Harry struggled to swallow what he gave him. Only a little dribbled from the corners of his mouth, and Severus jerked him back up into his lap and kissed him deeply, tongue lapping the excess and dipping in deeply to explore every contour of Harry’s now well used mouth. Harry moaned weakly into the kiss and clung to Severus, arms wrapping around him and stroking his back in slow circles.

When Severus finally let him up for air, Harry did indeed utter a soft, “Thank you, sir,” that had Severus drawing him closer and settling Harry’s head on his shoulder as he pressed a tender kiss to his hair. He felt Harry go boneless against him, his breathing slowly calming back down into a more normal rhythm. He cradled the smaller man against him and felt the tingle of a cleaning charm wash over them both. Marvelous was what he was, and Severus told him so, murmuring softly in his ear.

“Exquisite. You’re going to be my good boy now, aren’t you, Harry? No more of this out at all hours, running yourself into the ground business, hmm? Use your words. I want to hear you say it.”

He felt Harry’s weary nod, and though the younger man didn’t move beyond that or open his eyes, he did manage to muster a reply, his grip on Severus tightening as he got to the last part, voice wobbling slightly.

“No, I promise. No more. I’ll be good... I wa-want to be g-good for you. But you’ll stay with me, won’t you? Y-you won’t l-leave?”

Severus’ eyes softened, and his touch became even gentler as he slowly carded his fingers through Harry’s hair, still hugging him close. The Wizarding World may have mellowed somewhat toward him after all those bloody articles in the _Prophet_ about him being some sort of dark, tragic hero redeemed at last, but he knew their forgiveness would only go so far once word got out that their precious Hero was involved with a former Death-Eater. Nothing and no one would come between them now, however. Severus would kill anyone who dared try. He reassured Harry with quiet whispers as he felt him slowly start to relax into a doze, tired from both their exertions and the emotional toil of the last few months, no doubt.

“I’m not going anywhere, my Harry. I have you now. Everything is going to be alright.”

And so it was.

**Author's Note:**

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